


Stripped Down

by ashes_of_roses (KendraLuehr)



Series: Ben/Anna [4]
Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: (except strip quoits since that's more historically accurate), Multi, Naked Male Clothed Female, Some Humor, Strip Games, Strip Poker, Unresolved Sexual Tension, rated T for Ben pointing his dick at everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28676499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraLuehr/pseuds/ashes_of_roses
Summary: "The rules are simple," Anna said, sparing both Ben and Caleb a pointed look. "If you lose, you take something off."
Relationships: Anna Strong & Benjamin Tallmadge, Caleb Brewster & Anna Strong, Caleb Brewster & Benjamin Tallmadge, Caleb Brewster & Benjamin Tallmadge & Anna Strong
Series: Ben/Anna [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059155
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Stripped Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thucydides_groupie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thucydides_groupie/gifts).



> This was spawned entirely by a conversation I had with thucydides_groupie. I was saying how Ben, though incredibly focused, had lapses of immaturity with Anna and ONLY Anna (i.e. acting like a 12-year-old boy when he grabbed her), and she said she headcanoned that they were rivals as kids (not enemies, but super competitive about stupid stuff). I LOVE that, and could definitely see that being a thing, especially since in S4, they both were so quick to be like, "No, I'm right. No, no, I AM right, YOU ARE WRONG," any time the other spoke (and then Anna was usually right, LoL). Because of that mindset, I knew I immediately wanted to try and lean into that competitiveness and wrangle poor Caleb into the mix. Even though this is a bit of a character piece, it's also meant to be funny/not taken too seriously. 
> 
> 18th century slang terms can be found at the end of the chapter. I hope you all enjoy! :)

Huddled over a game of quoits, both Ben and Caleb were uncharacteristically silent as they sized up the next play. An errant fly buzzed around the tent, frantic and noisy in its flight, but the latter man was filled to the brim with concentration, perspiring faintly as he focused on the target.

“Come to Papa,” he whispered under his breath.

With a flick of his wrist, Caleb sent his metal ring soaring across the tent, but its arc took a tragic turn and rolled underneath Ben’s cot. “Oh, _shite.”_

“That’s two out of three,” Ben said, pleased. “Hand it over.”

Sulking, Caleb looked down at his wineskin and sighed. “You drive a hard bargain,” he complained. “I barely even got to enjoy it…cost me a whole deck of cards, too.”

“All is fair in the spoils of war,” Ben said, snapping his fingers more spiritedly.

“All right, all _right,_ you bloody lushey – you know why you won, don’t you?” Sneering, Caleb slapped the wineskin into his friend’s palm. “While I was off cavorting with women, _you_ were gaining all that upper body strength from boxing the Jesuit.”

Ben scoffed, though he was smiling. “You’re an arsehole.”

“An arsehole with _experience,_ just so we’re clear. I’d rather be good at blanket hornpipe than this damn game of quoits.”

“Spoken like a true loser.” Uncapping the wineskin, Ben held it toward Caleb in a mock salute, then took a generous swallow just as the tent flap opened. Nearly dribbling on himself, he staggered up to his feet and Caleb followed suit, alarmed. Though once they realized it was only Anna, their posture relaxed and they exchanged glances.

“Getting into trouble, are we?” she asked, appraising the setup. “I’m pretty certain the General wouldn’t approve.” Ben grew pale and she smirked, fully entering the tent. “Relax, won’t you? I’m not a complete stick in the mud…just so long as I get to play too, of course.”

Caleb gave a knowing grin, but Ben immediately shook his head. “No,” he said, “absolutely not.”

“Why?” she demanded, her bottom lip protruding. “Are you afraid I might give you some _actual_ competition?”

“Not in the _slightest.”_

“He’s pretty good,” Caleb offered, ever one to fan the flames. “In our last round, he got the ring around the hob on his second try.”

 _“Only_ his second?” Anna asked, once more directing her gaze to the hob and rings. “You know, I’m very good at games that involve aim…in fact, I seem to recall winning quite a bit.” Smirking, she folded her arms and looked to Ben. “Don’t you remember? I knocked that rock off the fence on my _first_ _try,_ and then you had to do my chores for an entire week.”

Ben huffed. “That was a child’s game, Anna.”

“And this _isn’t?”_ Unimpressed, she nudged at one of the rings with her foot. “You may be men – debatably, might I add – but this is assuredly _not_ so different from what we played as children.”

Caleb hummed under his breath, mulling it over. “She’s got a point there, Tall-boy. Maybe we can squeeze her in.”

Ben gnashed his teeth. He knew why Anna was doing this – hell, _Caleb_ clearly knew it too, and it bothered him that his own best friend felt the need to drive in the knife. Was he _trying_ to get them to snap? Even so, Caleb had always been a thrill-seeker, and seeing their competitiveness was surely a form of amusement for him.

Ever since Ben and Anna were very small, they’d had an unspoken rivalry of sorts. It had been innocent at first…rather uneventful, in fact, and started in Sunday school when Anna became more adept at memorizing scripture. Naturally, this had been _mortifying_ for Ben, seeing how his own father was the reverend, and there had been no shortage of chastisements for his failure. Over and over, he would get lectured on how “Anna was the paradigm of discipline,” and that he should “strive to be more like Anna Smith.”

It had rankled him something fierce. Anna, unsurprisingly, was quite intelligent, and easily picked up on his resentment. Though rather than extend an olive branch, she’d seemed more determined than ever to upset him. Each week, she went out of her way to go above and beyond in her studies, even going so far as to stop by the Tallmadge residence and give his father little notes she’d written – notes that reflected different scripture for her ever-changing moods.

Even though they were friends, Ben very well supposed he’d _loathed_ her for a short while. When he was eight, his vanity prompted him to catch a bee in mid-flight, just because Anna Smith told him he _couldn’t._ And despite her laughter and scorn, she’d held his hand while he’d cried over the painful sting…a moment he gladly kept hidden, but one Anna recalled more easily than breathing.

Once they’d grown into adolescence, their rivalry only seemed to worsen. While Ben made awkward discoveries about his body in the summer of his thirteenth year, Anna had been all too happy to tell him he was destined to be a late bloomer. Naturally, he hadn’t appreciated the sentiment. He’d told her she was bottle-headed, and that between the two of them, he would assuredly be the first to receive a kiss, tupping, _and_ marriage in one fell swoop. As it so happened, Anna kissed Abe for the first time that very month, lost her virginity a few years afterward, and then married Selah even later still. As of this moment, Ben had kissed two women, and slept with only one of them – not a source of bragging rights by any means, and he clung to that experience now more than ever as he glared back at Anna.

“Well?” she asked, arching a brow. “Are you in or out, Ben?”

 _“In,”_ he spat, growing further inflamed by the smugness in her eyes. “I assume you remember how to play?”

“You assumed correctly.” Looking down at the game again, she asked, “What’s at stake here?”

“Caleb and I have been making trades thus far, but admittedly, we are running low on provisions.”

“Not exactly exciting, is it?” She looked between them with a smirk. “Do you have a better idea?”

When Ben glanced at Caleb, he felt his stomach drop at the other man’s huge, gleeful grin.

“We could always barter clothes,” he suggested. “Then once the winner is declared, the losers can try and win them back.”

Anna snorted. “Who says I’m giving them back?”

 _“You?”_ Ben volleyed, scoffing. “Anna, you may be a woman, but we are _not_ about to go easy on you for the sake of modesty.”

“Good! You know how much I loathe being treated differently, and most especially because of what lies between my legs.” Gesturing to the metal rings on the ground, she added, “Hand me a couple.”

Ben sighed and stepped back, so Caleb ducked down and gathered up the rings.

“Are we clear on how to play?” the latter asked, still grinning. “Seems like things might have to be a bit different.”

“The rules are simple,” Anna said, sparing both men a pointed look. “If you lose, you take something off. I don’t expect that to change just because of my sex.”

“Fair enough.” Caleb nudged her, his eyes nearly disappearing behind his smile lines. “Would you care to do the honors?”

“No.” Turning to Ben, Anna said, “I think our _expert_ should go first. After all, you said he won after _two whole tries._ I absolutely _must_ see his technique!”

Despite her clear ridicule, Ben snatched up a few rings and moved over toward the hob. “We’ve been going two-out-of-three,” he told her, “but since there are more players now, we’ll have to adapt. Whoever gets the ring around the hob in the least amount of tries-”

“Wins the game,” she cut in. “Yes, yes, I know.” Gesturing toward his stance, she added, “You seem a bit tense, Ben. I hope you’re not too distracted.”

He spared her a withering glare, then looked back toward the target. Rolling his neck and shoulders, he exhaled, aimed, and then tossed the metal ring. It _clinked_ against the hob before ricocheting across the grass, forlorn in its defeat.

“Shite,” Caleb swore. “She’s in your head now, Tall-boy.”

“She’s _not,”_ Ben muttered. Though she was – Caleb was right. Not that he’d ever admit as such, of course. “I’ll go again.”

“Please do,” Anna agreed, tilting her head with a smile.

Scowling at her, Ben clenched his jaw and turned back toward the target. After steadying his breath – _in for three, out for three –_ he tossed and cursed when this time, he overextended and sent the ring well beyond the hob.

“Uh-oh, that was lucky number two,” Anna observed. “You might want to be more careful.”

Ben ignored her. Keeping his feet shoulder width apart, he lightly bent his knees, exhaled, and then tossed with a much leveler grip. At long last, the ring circled the hob and spun down toward the base.

Caleb whooped and clapped Ben on the shoulder, but Anna hadn’t lost her smugness.

“That was three,” she announced, beaming. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but more _isn’t_ better in this case, correct?”

“You haven’t gone yet,” Ben coolly reminded her. “And if Providence is kind, your foul attitude will receive comeuppance.”

“What, you mean like how _you’re_ receiving comeuppance now?” she countered, her gaze sharp.

It dawned on Ben that she was still upset from earlier – from when he’d fabricated her story to Washington and made her “a woman shamed.” Was she right, he wondered? _Was_ he receiving comeuppance for the lie?

Guilt licked between his ribs like a smoldering flame, but that sensation, no matter how acute, was quickly doused whenever Anna moved into position.

Caleb leaned in at his side, eager, but Ben could only grimace as he watched her size up the target. She took a shallow breath, closed her eyes, and then tossed the ring.

The damned thing sailed as if it were being _guided_ into place, then swirled down the hob in a perfect, triumphant circle.

_Goddammit._

Caleb whistled, low and impressed. “Shite, Annie…I think I’ll sit this one out, if it’s all the same to you. I rather like my dignity – not to mention, my _breeches_ – intact.” Nodding to Ben, he added, “She’s all yours… Or should I say, _you_ are all _hers?”_

Shoulders tensing with humility, he ignored Anna’s expectant gaze and irritably shrugged out of his officer coat. “I was getting too warm anyway,” he muttered.

“Brilliant deflection,” Caleb teased. “Show her up now, eh?”

“Whose side are you on?” Anna asked, though she was beaming fondly.

Unbidden, a sharp pang formed in Ben’s stomach. He didn’t know why, but Anna had always been kind to Caleb. They’d gotten along much better – hell, _everyone_ in the ring got along much better than Anna and himself – and it bothered him. He knew that he was fully responsible for part of their vitriol, but he was also stubborn and unwilling to change. _She_ was stubborn and unwilling to change, as well.

“Here you are,” Anna said, handing him a few rings. “The one to score in the least number of tosses wins, correct?”

Ben flashed a tight smile and a nod. If he could at least _pretend_ he was enjoying himself, then perhaps she would stop with her merciless teasing.

By now, his palms had grown slick and sweaty, and he grimaced while wiping his dominant hand against his breeches. _This will be easy,_ he assured himself. _As long as I think of this as a normal, everyday game without stakes, then-_

“Are you going to toss the ring or make love to it?” Caleb jeered, causing Ben’s shoulders to stiffen.

_Arsehole._

Choosing to block out his friends’ laughter, he mimicked Anna’s earlier stance, drew his arm back, and then gently tossed. The ring clattered against the target and rolled to a stop alongside his valise, defeated once more.

 _“Son_ of a-”

“Ben!” Anna cut in, amused. “I shudder to think what your father would say, were he to hear your tongue.”

Determined, Ben set his jaw and flicked his wrist yet again. This time, as luck would have it, the ring made its mark on the second try. Anna and Caleb both grew silent.

 _Good,_ he thought. Maybe they’d finally realized he was a worthy contender.

“Your turn,” he stiffly said, handing his remaining rings off to Anna.

Despite her cool, aloof demeanor, there was a clear pink rising in her cheeks. Tilting up her chin, she huffed and moved over to stand in front of the hob. Just as before, she drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tossed.

 _And just like bloody before,_ the damn ring swirled around the spike on the _first damn bloody try._

Ben swore sharply under his breath while Anna squealed, clapping her hands together and turning to Caleb for a celebratory hug. While the whaler lifted her off the ground, Ben sighed and began unfastening his waistcoat with clear resentment burning behind his narrowed, otherwise serene blue eyes.

“You’re a traitor,” he told Caleb, yet without any true malice to his tone.

Caleb grinned and set Anna back into the grass. “Sorry, Benny-boy, but until you grow a nice pair of kettledrums, you’re _never_ going to be my favorite.”

Anna struck his arm and jerked away from him, still wearing a vibrant grin. “You’re such a lech, you cully!”

“Only for you, Annie-love.”

Rolling his eyes, Ben retrieved the discarded rings and returned back to position. It seemed that Caleb had chosen Anna in this bet – whether to vex him, or because his friend genuinely believed he couldn’t win, he wasn’t sure – and Ben’s bitterness only blossomed each time Caleb and Anna whispered amongst themselves.

_Let them talk. She can’t win this entire game._

With his jaw taking on a hard slant, Ben swayed back and forth a moment, appraising the hob, then gave a careful toss. To his relief (and shock), the ring slid down over the spike and made its mark.

_Finally._

With a pleased whoop, Caleb jostled Anna around the shoulders and grinned, looking between his friends with expectance. “Seems like he’s learned a thing or two from you, eh, Annie?”

Shrugging him off, she frowned and snatched the rings from Ben’s hand. “It’s no bother,” she said. “Providence had to lend you a hand at least once, I’d say.” With her mouth pursed and her shoulders stiff, she turned toward the hob and sized it up.

She reared back, and Ben drew a breath. The ring soared through the air not long after, only to hit the top of the spike and bounce across the grass.

Unable to help it, Ben gave a relieved shout and clapped his hands, gesturing up toward the tent’s ceiling and saying a prayer of thanks. At least he wasn’t going to _completely_ lose his dignity.

“Well, that’s that,” Caleb said, gesturing toward Anna's ensemble. “What’s coming off?”

She snorted. “I don’t need the narration, thank you very much.” With a pointed look between them, Anna smiled and reached for the top of her head.

Bemused, Ben and Caleb exchanged glances, then blinked once she unfastened the pins from her hair. Her long, curled locks came tumbling down around her shoulders, silken and oddly obscene in their unveiling, and she appeared pleased as both men gaped at her in disbelief.

“That…th-that doesn’t count!” Ben exclaimed, flustered.

“Oh, no?” Looking between them, Anna challenged, “Judging by your idiotic, slack-jawed expressions, I would say it counts _plenty_ since a woman with her hair down is _just_ as inappropriate as flashing skin.”

Neither man could disagree. It _was_ considered unsuitable, and to Anna’s amusement, neither Ben nor Caleb could look her in the eye (or at least, _Ben_ couldn’t).

“You’re both a couple of greenheads,” she muttered, scoffing. “I suppose it’s a good thing I started with my hair, seeing how you virgins couldn’t handle me in my stays.”

Caleb laughed good-naturedly. “Far be it for me to disagree with you, Annie, but there are _quite_ a few doxie-dells out there who’d be willing to vouch for my skill. Ben, on the other hand…” He shrugged. “Well, let’s just say his nutting bag hasn’t been given a good squeeze.”

“All right, enough!” Ben snapped, growing red around the ears. “Let’s just get this over with!”

Anna smirked and nodded. “But of course, Major. I’m at your service.”

He sneered at her mockery. Despite his residual discomfort with observing her in an unkempt state – the state _Selah_ saw her within the Strong bedchamber – he returned her gaze and handed her a few rings. “You’re about to be,” he coolly agreed.

* * *

Their game continued on for several more rounds. Ben was now down to his breeches (he’d even tried to delay the inevitable by removing his hair ribbon), while Anna only had her shortgown in the pile of clothing.

“Let’s give him some space,” Caleb suggested, much to Ben’s annoyance.

“I do _not_ need space,” he snapped. “I can throw perfectly well with the way things are.”

“It’s called performance anxiety,” Anna said, nodding to Caleb. “I don’t pay much attention to the male sex, but I’ve heard it’s a common affliction.”

“Will you two _stop_ with your jawing?” Ben growled. “I am _trying_ to concentrate!”

By this point, his limbs had begun to quiver – whether from fatigue or frustration or _both_ – and he swallowed as he turned back toward the hob. This was it. If he couldn’t get the ring over the target, all would be lost. He’d _already_ missed his first three shots (not a good sign), so he didn’t have much hope with this next attempt.

One, two, three, _toss!_

The trio watched with anticipation, only to dissolve into varying responses whenever it made its mark.

“It’s about time!” Caleb razzed. “For a while there, I was worried we’d be playing until supper.”

“Don’t worry,” Ben muttered. “You don’t seem to be in any danger of starving. After all, you’ve both been feeding off your own tripe for the past hour.”

“Oi, no need for the sass, my friend.” Grinning, he elbowed Anna in the ribs. “Off you go then, Annie. Time to go in for the kill.”

She seemed to mull over his suggestion, then lit up with a beatific smile, her curls swaying around her shoulders as she sauntered over and snatched Ben’s remaining ring from his fingers.

“Thanks for keeping it warm for me,” she said. Ignoring his scowl, she moved to the proper position, lined up her aim, and then threw the ring with almost _anticlimactic_ fanfare. She knew she’d won. _He_ knew it too, and yet Ben still felt the stab of failure whenever the ring slid down the hob.

_Dammit._

Anna cheered and threw up her hands, looking to Caleb for affirmation.

When he gave it, Ben groaned and steeled his shoulders. “I am a man of honor,” he declared, his cheeks pink, “so I won’t shy away from what must be done.”

With fumbling hands, he unbuttoned his fall flap, shoved his breeches down to his knees, and then stepped out of them with wobbly legs.

Both Anna and Caleb gaped at him, not having expected the follow-through.

“Shite,” the latter swore.

Clapping a hand over her mouth, Anna’s face grew pink and she suppressed a snort. Ben clenched his jaw, and then she dissolved into full-blown laughter, her arms curling around Caleb for support as she took another look at Ben’s indecency. When she further appraised him, she threw her head back with a delighted howl of mirth.

Ben clenched his fists. “What the hell is so funny?”

Caleb started laughing too, his brows drawing high on his head. “Well, Benny-boy, it would seem you’ve enjoyed yourself a bit more than you’re letting on.”

“What?” Bemused, he looked between them in horror, then glanced down at himself and…

_Oh._

Flustered, Ben gritted his teeth and marched over to Anna, extending a finger. “Instead of laughing at me, you could be _decent_ about this and return my clothes.”

“Don’t you point at me!” Anna warned. Looking down at his obvious “problem,” she sneered and admonished, “Don’t _you_ point at me, either.”

_Oh, sweet Jesus._

“Will you stop looking at it?” he snarled.

“Well, sit down and stop waving it around then! At _least_ show some dignity!” 

Ben moved to reply, but his tent flap opened, and a messenger stepped in.

Though professional, the poor kid spluttered at the sight before him, clearly believing he’d walked in on some sort of sordid sex act. “I…er…M-Major Tall…uh…” Rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, he kept them there and cleared his throat. “Th-the General requests your presence, sir.”

Caleb and Anna burst into unrestrained laughter again, but Ben was far too horrified to admonish them. Scurrying around his tent, he gathered up every bit of clothing he could reach, his face pink and his heart pounding as he stammered, “Yes, yes, uh…o-of course, thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I’m able.”

The messenger bowed his head (and _without_ any sort of eye contact), and then eagerly stumbled back out of the tent.

“Poor lad,” Anna said, giggling behind her fingers. “He’s probably never seen a half-cocked salute before.”

Caleb guffawed. “Aye, good one, Annie!”

Ben ignored them, his chin pointed downward as he furiously stepped back into his stockings. He would have to get his revenge another time…

* * *

Later that evening, Ben sat wide awake at his writing desk. He held his quill in hand, yet couldn’t concentrate – each word that splashed across the page felt stilted and false. Groaning under his breath, he set aside his plume with an unnecessary roughness. Ink spattered across his pages from the gesture and he sighed, his shoulders sagging.

That was when he heard a noise outside his tent.

“Ben?”

He jerked upright, brow creasing in surprise. “Anna?”

She’d never been hesitant about entering his quarters before – what had changed?

There came an additional pause, then the flap opened and Anna stuck her head in. “Glad to see you dressed,” she teased. Despite the quip, there was a softness in her eyes. “May I come in?”

Uncertain, he nodded.

Allowing the flap to fall behind her, Anna stepped forward and drew her shawl around her shoulders, her fingers worrying over the fabric as she came to a stop at his side. “How are you feeling?”

All at once, Ben found his defenses going back up. Annoyed, he looked down at his papers and spat, _“Fine,_ clearly. I didn’t realize you believed my sensibilities so _weak_ that a mere loss could sway me.”

“That’s not what I was inferring.” With a sigh, she sank down onto his cot. It was an inappropriate gesture – she did _not_ belong where he slept – yet neither remarked on the breach of propriety. “For what it’s worth, you weren’t the worst opponent I’ve ever had.”

In spite of the barb, a small smile stretched at Ben’s lips. “You’re a terrible human being, Anna Strong.”

She grinned, her eyes swimming with the candlelight from his lantern. “I can’t say that I disagree with you…loath though I am to admit it.” Twisting her shawl around her fingers, her smile faded and she glanced down at her feet. “I don’t hate you, you know.”

Startled, Ben looked up from his paperwork, trying his best to mask his surprise. “I never thought…I-I mean…”

“In many ways, I suppose I’m envious of your good fortune. It felt _good_ to knock you down a few pegs, even if it was in a rather… _cruel_ way.” Unable to look him in the eye, Anna shrugged. “You’re a man, Ben. And as a man, you’re able to do many things – to help the cause in ways I never could. You’ve always been lucky in that regard.”

Stunned, Ben turned in his chair to fully face her. “Anna, I had no idea…”

“Please don’t interrupt me,” she begged. “This is humiliating enough as it is.” With a soft laugh, she curled her shoulders and shook her head. “I’m not certain _why_ it’s taken me so long to make this realization, but seeing you…ah… _stripped down_ kind of opened my eyes. You seemed just as scared and vulnerable as I often am.”

“I was _not_ scared, I just-”

“What did I say about interrupting me?” Despite the edge in Anna’s voice, there was a warmth that danced amidst her eyes – _affection._ Ben wasn’t sure he’d ever noticed that between them before. With a deep breath, she asked him, “Am I forgiven?”

“Yes.” The word was uttered before Ben could truly contemplate it, because deep in his heart, he knew it was true. He resented and sometimes even _loathed_ Anna Strong, but their rift had never been beyond repair. His expression changed into something more mischievous as he added, _“Only_ if you agree to a rematch.”

Unable to help it, Anna laughed. “You never learn, do you?”

Ben chuckled. “I’m beginning to wonder that myself.”

A silent, surprisingly fond moment passed between them, and then Anna extended a hand. He returned her handshake, suddenly not minding so much that he might lose (again) to such a willful, determined young woman.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, I can't believe I wrote over 4k about strip quoits. Idk what it is about this show, seeing how quiet everything is, but I've been very inspired by these characters lately. I took a much-needed break from my fic "The World is Made Wrong" to write this, but hopefully I can get back to it soon! Originally, this chapter was supposed to end much more aggressively. Ben was going to walk in on Anna in a state of undress (not intentionally) demanding a rematch, which would then devolve into insults and name-calling until Anna threw a pot at him. She was then going to say something like, “Oh, did you need first aid? Too bad _I_ am the only one in camp you can barter with, eh?” and that would be that. Fortunately, I was listening to my _Moonlighting_ OST while writing that scene, which prompted me to write something much fluffier. I definitely prefer this version since they needed some positive closure. I LOVE THEM, YOUR HONOR.
> 
> As always, thoughts are appreciated! 💕
> 
> 18th century slang terms:
> 
> lushey - drunk  
> boxing the Jesuit - masturbating  
> blanket hornpipe - sex  
> bottle-headed - devoid of wit  
> tupping - sex  
> kettledrums - breasts  
> cully - fool/blockhead  
> greenhead - an inexperienced young man  
> doxie-dell - she-beggars, wenches, whores  
> nutting bag - balls


End file.
